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When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh! the doxy over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o’ the year; For the red blood reigns in the winter’s pale. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge; For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. The lark, that tirra-lyra chants, With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay, Are summer songs for me and my aunts, While we lie tumbling in the hay. I have served Prince Florizel and in my time wore three-pile; but now I am out of service: But shall I go mourn for that, my dear? The pale moon shines by night: And when I wander here and there, I then do most go right. If tinkers may have leave to live, And bear the sow-skin budget, Then my account I well may, give, And in the stocks avouch it. My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus; who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With die and drab I purchased this caparison, and my revenue is the silly cheat. Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway: beating and hanging are terrors to me: for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it. A prize! a prize!
When daffodils start to appear, With hooray! the girl across the valley, That’s when the best part of the year comes in; Because the red blood takes over the winter’s pale. The white sheet drying on the fence, With hooray! the sweet birds, oh, how they sing! Makes my little tooth ache; Because a quart of beer is fit for a king. The lark, that sings its sweet song, With hooray! with hooray! the thrush and the jay, Are summer songs for me and my aunts, While we lie tumbling in the hay. I’ve served Prince Florizel, and in my time wore fine clothes; but now I’m out of work: But should I cry over that, my dear? The pale moon shines at night: And when I wander here and there, I always seem to find my way. If tinkers can be allowed to live, And carry their bundles, Then I might as well give my account, And be locked in the stocks for it. My trade is sheets; when the kite builds its nest, look for smaller linens. My father named me Autolycus; who being, as I am, born under Mercury, was also someone who picked up things that others didn’t care about. With dice and women, I bought this outfit, and my income is the silly trick. The gallows and being knocked around are too strong on the highway: being beaten and hanged scare me: as for the life after this one, I don’t think about it. A prize! A prize!
Let me see: every ’leven wether tods; every tod yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred shorn. what comes the wool to?
Let me see: every eleven sheep gives wool; every wool gives a pound and a little more; fifteen hundred shorn. How much does the wool cost?
[Aside] If the springe hold, the cock’s mine.
[Aside] If the trap holds, the rooster’s mine.
I cannot do’t without counters. Let me see; what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound of sugar, five pound of currants, rice,--what will this sister of mine do with rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for the shearers, three-man-song-men all, and very good ones; but they are most of them means and bases; but one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to horn-pipes. I must have saffron to colour the warden pies; mace; dates?--none, that’s out of my note; nutmegs, seven; a race or two of ginger, but that I may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o’ the sun.
I can’t do it without counters. Let me see; what do I need to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pounds of sugar, five pounds of currants, rice,--what will my sister do with rice? But my father has made her in charge of the feast, and she’s piling it on. She’s made me twenty-four little bouquets for the shearers, all good singers, and very good ones; but most of them are basses; but there’s one Puritan among them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I need saffron to color the pear pies; mace; dates?--no, that’s not on my list; nutmegs, seven; a couple of pieces of ginger, but that I may have to beg for; four pounds of prunes, and as many of raisins from the sun.
O that ever I was born!
Oh, that I was ever born!
I’ the name of me--
In the name of me--
O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death!
Oh, help me, help me! Just take off these rags, and then, death, death!
Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.
Poor soul! you need more rags to cover you, rather than take these off.
O sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions.
Oh sir, the filthiness of them disgusts me more than the beatings I’ve taken, which are terrible and many.
Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter.
Poor man! a million beatings can add up to a lot.
I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta’en from me, and these detestable things put upon me.
I’ve been robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and clothes taken from me, and these horrible things put on me.
What, by a horseman, or a footman?
What, by a horseman, or a footman?
A footman, sweet sir, a footman.
A footman, good sir, a footman.
Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he has left with thee: if this be a horseman’s coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, I’ll help thee: come, lend me thy hand.
Really, he must be a footman based on the clothes he left with you: if this is a horseman’s coat, it’s been through some really tough use. Give me your hand, I’ll help you: come, give me your hand.
O, good sir, tenderly, O!
Oh, kind sir, gently, oh!
Alas, poor soul!
Poor thing!
O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade is out.
Oh, kind sir, gently, please! I think, sir, my shoulder’s out of joint.
How now! canst stand?
What’s wrong? Can you stand?
[Picking his pocket] Softly, dear sir; good sir, softly. You ha’ done me a charitable office.
[Picking his pocket] Gently, kind sir; please, gently. You’ve done me a great service.
Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee.
Do you need any money? I have some spare change for you.
No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or any thing I want: offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my heart.
No, kind sir, no, I beg you, sir: I have a relative not even a mile from here, I was on my way to him; I’ll get money there, or anything I need: please, don’t offer me money; it breaks my heart.
What manner of fellow was he that robbed you?
What kind of man was it that robbed you?
A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with troll-my-dames; I knew him once a servant of the prince: I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court.
A man, sir, I know who used to hang around with women of questionable reputation; I knew him once as a servant of the prince: I can’t say, good sir, what good quality he had, but he was certainly kicked out of the court.
His vices, you would say; there’s no virtue whipped out of the court: they cherish it to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide.
You mean his bad qualities; there’s no virtue kicked out of the court: they protect it to keep it there; and yet it won’t stay, no matter what.
Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker’s wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus.
Bad qualities, I meant, sir. I know this man well: he has worked as an animal handler, then as a process-server, a bailiff; then he put on a show of being like the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker’s wife, not far from where my land is; and after trying out many dishonest jobs, he finally settled on being a thief: some call him Autolycus.
Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs and bear-baitings.
Disgraceful! A thief, for sure! He’s always at wakes, fairs, and bear-baiting events.
Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that’s the rogue that put me into this apparel.
Exactly, sir; that’s him, the rogue who put me into these clothes.
Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia: if you had but looked big and spit at him, he’ld have run.
There’s no more cowardly scoundrel in all of Bohemia: if you had just stood tall and spat at him, he would have run away.
I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him.
I have to admit, sir, I’m not a fighter: I’m weak-hearted that way; and I’m sure he knew that about me.
How do you now?
How are you now?
Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand and walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman’s.
I’m much better, sweet sir, than I was before; I can stand and walk now: I’ll even say goodbye to you, and walk slowly towards my relative’s house.
Shall I bring thee on the way?
Should I walk with you for a bit?
No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir.
No, kind sir; no, sweet sir.
Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing.
Then goodbye: I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing.
Prosper you, sweet sir!
I wish you well, sweet sir!
Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I’ll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: if I make not this cheat bring out another and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled and my name put in the book of virtue!
Your wallet isn’t fat enough to buy your spices. I’ll join you at your sheep-shearing too: if I don’t pull off this trick, let me be exposed and my name written down in the book of virtue!
Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a: A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a.
Jog on, jog on, along the footpath, And cheerfully hop over the stile: A merry heart goes all day, While your sad steps tire you after a mile.